


Unraveled

by HotchyMotchy



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pining, RPF, Semi-Public Sex, brian is lovesick, crushes are creepy, ill add more tags when we get to the nsfw content, intense feelings, look im sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotchyMotchy/pseuds/HotchyMotchy
Summary: Being 'just friends' isnt enough, but for Pat? Brian is willing to try.





	1. Definitely (not) a big deal

**Author's Note:**

> So hi... Never in my life did I think I would fall down a rpf rabbit hole like I have for these two but here we are. I dont really feel great about it, so if you want to drag me you should save your breath tbh. Also if you are affiliated with any of these people in any way then just like run away and save yourself.

The human brain works in mysterious ways. Okay well, maybe not  _ mysterious _ to the people who've studied them, but to the average person, it's a conundrum. Sometimes a perfectly good day gives way to cold sweats and stress dreams. Sometimes a neuron misfires, and you momentarily forget the name of someone you've known for years. Sometimes you get so anxious you cry on the subway for no reason at all.

 

But the brain is also a muscle. One that likes to be tested and exorcised. And while it's easy enough to download an app that, once a day, throws a cross word puzzle at you to keep you sharp, that isn't enough to satiate it. It requires  _ consistency _ , and works to build habits to make its own functions easier. It's the reason you might zone out completely on the drive home from work, because your brain sees no need in paying attention to the same landmarks it's seen hundreds of times before.

 

Sometimes, however, these self-formed habits are harmful.  _ Dangerous  _ even. And they build. One thought or action, can lead to another, and another, and another, and another, until something that started out so innocuous is suddenly all consuming. Your habits devolve and rebuild to make you powerless against them. You fall, spiraling deeper and deeper into a hole your own brain digs out from underneath you.

 

Obsession. Hyperfixation.

 

In its most dangerous forms, this can lead to unhealthy compulsions targeted at whatever person, place, or thing, your  _ thing _ is. Stalking, hoarding, isolation, not being able to tell the difference between fact and fiction, and so on.

 

Other times, and far more commonly, it's just a hobby.

 

Or, in this case, an extremely painful and overwhelming crush. The  _ ‘fall flat on your face’ _ type of crush. The  _ ‘damn near every waking moment is devoted to you’  _ crush. The  _ ‘im not fourteen anymore, so why is this still happening’ _ sort of crush.

 

And while its not dangerous, it's no less painful, and Brian is no less incapable of getting out from underneath it.

 

When Brain landed his dream job, it felt like his future was slotting into place before his eyes. The payoff of something he had worked so hard for, something that meant so much to him; Now attainable and  _ tangible _ . The culmination of all his passion and seemingly unending source of energy channeled into something  _ important _ to him. And while the first few months went by without incident, making him feel like he was walking on clouds, he would soon be brought back down to earth with a harsh slap.

 

He expected many things, but he never expected to fall head over heels for a coworker. Especially not Patrick Gill.

 

Its pathetic, really. How something small and insignificant turned into a  _ fixation _ that consumed his entire stupid life. Pat was always  _ cute, _ like no shit, and that was never an issue until he met the man in person. And even then, it wasn't like a big deal. It just was. Brian would find find little moments to steal away for himself, basking in Pat’s presence like the lovesick puppy he really is. And then they’d say their goodbyes at the end of a work day, and go Brian would go home and think about Pat the way he would any other attractive friend. Right? Right. Normal.

 

Then, somewhere along the way, those little stolen moments became more and more frequent, and more and more pathetic. He thought maybe it was all those late evening streams, when it was just the two of them in the office. Just being stupid with one another, learning things about each other. They had  _ fun _ together. Then, Gill and Gilbert ended, and all of that time was gone.

 

And then it wasn't just enough to  _ look  _ at him. Every word exchanged, every text, every bump as they crossed paths during their day, every time they went out together with friends, became warped into something  _ precious _ and borderline  _ obsessive _ , and undoubtedly fucking creepy.

 

Brian  _ felt _ creepy. He felt pathetic. He wonders what it would be like to hear Pat say that and _ \- no, no. Focus on literally anything else! _

 

So yeah. Its bad. And he doesn't feel good about it.

 

So, he decided, he could either stifle it all down and go fucking  _ crazy _ , or give in to the best of his abilities and... well.. Go fucking crazy. But at least the latter form was more palatable, and a hell of a lot more fun. Probably a little sick and definetally fucked up, but fun.

 

And what's a masochistic queer with anxiety to do rather than make himself feel as bad as possible for the fun and drama of it all? Nothing, that's what.

 

So he started paying really astute attention. If Pat made a joke, Brian would laugh. If Pat referenced something, Brian would find a way to reference it too. If Pat liked a song, Brian would hum it. Whenever Pat was in a good mood, and their friendship kiltered over to the very dangerous and very tantalizing  _ flirty _ side, Brian would do his best to be what Pat wanted. That much, Brian was good at. Molding himself into whatever shape someone else might like.

 

And it's not like he wouldn't have done those things normally. Pat was funny, and worldly, and had good taste in music. He would do the same for anyone really, it wasn't  _ that _ creepy, he just payed Pat a little extra attention is all.

 

There are times where it feels like it's working too. They've become great friends in the time they've known each other, more comfortable with one another. Sometimes Pat will loop an arm around Brian’s chair when they go out after work. Sometimes, if Brian feels so inclined, he’ll rest his head on the other man's shoulder. They've held hands a few times, mostly just when navigating through crowded streets or train tunnels. Once, when the office had gone out drinking, Pat even kissed Brian on the cheek. Brian nearly tumbled into the deep end over that one.

 

So it's not like its  _ totally _ out of left field for Brain to feel the way he does. Right?

 

Then again, he can rationalize these things to himself over and over again, but the relationship he’s formed is anything but innocent. As the months go on it just keeps getting  _ worse _ . To the point of being set off by the smallest of glances.

 

A simple  _ ‘Your hair looks nice today’ _ from the older man makes his heart race, and floods his mind with thoughts of Pat running his hands through his hair. And pulling on it. And then Brian is a mess of jitters and chaotically desperate energy. How many times has he come home a flustered mess? How many times has he fallen onto his bed, groaned into his pillow, and whispered his struggles with Zuko for fear of being judged by anyone else?

 

How many times has he touched himself, with Pat’s name on his lips?

 

Too many.

 

And the really shitty part, that one that feels like a punch to his gut, is that he knows Pat will never feel the same way. Pat is good at keeping up walls with people, and setting things straight, and being direct. All things that Brian just can't seem to fucking do, and on top of that, Pat has made it so abundantly clear where they stand.

 

Pat goes out on dates. With girls. He is quick to add disclaimers to his more intimate statements. Saying ‘My Friend’ and ‘My Dude’, putting those clear lines in place. You’d think that would make it any easier, but it just doesn’t.

 

Then there’s the issue with age. Pat’s always bringing up their age difference. He has some sort of anxiety around getting older, and he makes a point to bring it up as often as he can it seems. Between dated references and (playfully) condescending tones, he puts a distinction between the two of them.

 

And all of this would be fine.  _ Should _ be fine. Brian's had unrequited feelings before, and definitely had feelings for straight dudes, but none of that past experience seems to help. So he just sits in it. Wallows.

 

And Pat sure as hell isn't helping.

 

The final straw was a fucking cup of coffee. And not just any coffee, but Brians exact order. And not just his order, but Pat surprised him with it. And not just a surprise, but Pat flashed a warm grin and leaned in close, as not to disturb Brians desk mate, and whispered a simple  _ ‘Someone must really like you _ ’ before turning and walking away.

 

Like... How does someone just walk away from that? Does he have absolutely no concept of the  _ destruction _ he caused? Brian couldn't even get his own vocal chords to utter a  _ ‘thank you’ _ before his day descended into chaos.

 

Brian spent the rest of the morning jumpy and feeling like his skin was a few sizes too tight. Replaying it in his head like the depraved little creep he is. Zoning out completely on his work for minutes at a time (which really isn't like him, and scared him more than he wanted to admit). It was another long train ride home, followed by an exhausting hike up the four flights to his walk up, and an absolutely deplorable hour spent in bed until he was sweaty, and tired, and in tears. Tearing at himself with blunt, purple painted, nails like he might find a better outcome underneath his own skin. Or maybe he was just pretending those nails belonged to someone else.

 

It was ruining him.

 

No longer a fun game to be played. Flirting was painful. Attentiveness was painful. Every time it felt like they became closer as friends, as  _ anything _ , it hurt because Brian was worried he had fabricated all of it. Logically he knew at least the latter wasn't true. Logically he knew Pat saw him as a  _ kid _ that was his  _ friend  _ and  _ coworker _ , totally genuine and completely harmless, and that's all the fuck he’d ever be. 

 

It’s what he  _ wanted _ to be. A normal friend to a good person and talented employee for an industry that meant a lot to the both of them. He would give anything to just get the hell over it and stop feeling like such garbage all the time. It wasn't healthy. Not for either of them.

 

So Brian made a plan.

 

He was just going to quit cold turkey.

 

Cut himself off like an addict, and maybe (hopefully) with some distance he can lick his wounds in peace, and come to a place of solace with reality. No more Sad-Lapdog-Brian. No more going out alone together for lunch, or drinks after work. No more prolonged conversation in the recording room, or in between takes.  _ Definitely  _ no more going over to Pat’s house, and no more inviting him over either. Cold turkey. Just coworkers. Just workplace chums.

 

Besides, it not like Pat would notice the difference. Brian instigated most of that sort of thing anyway. At least, it felt that way. He could always lie too, if pressed. Just say he’s working on a big project, maybe researching for an upcoming Unraveled. Brian often overworked himself anyway, Pat would buy it, and probably not ask too many questions.

 

Brian crawled from his bed long after the sun had gone down, and looked himself over in his bedroom mirror. His room was dark, save for the still burning candle he had absent-mindedly lit before beginning. It was sort of weird now, wanting to set a romantic aura for something so despicable. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust, to even be able to recognize his own face. He took extra consideration of the messed hair, and sheen to his skin. The slight irritation in his eyes and the puffiness just below them. It wasn't a pretty sight by any means, and all of it self inflicted.

 

“You can do this.” He said, his voice sounding uncertain and far away, “Just a regular, normal, friendly coworker.”

 

He watched himself for a while, just to really make sure it was hammered home. When he felt like the message really sank it, he fixed his hair, and left his room.

 

He just needed some time to let the fire that was constantly burning in his chest die out. Tomorrow would be day one, and he could handle it.


	2. The First Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is very good at trying because he doesn't know how to give less than 100% to anything, even if it hurts really fucking bad. The approach was well executed, but he's a bit too myopic on this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start happening! Folks,

Day one is easy.

 

More so than he ever could have guessed. And yeah, maybe that has a lot to do with the fact that he goes all day without seeing him, but it's a start. Brian doesn't seek him out either, and that's the biggest change of pace so far.

 

Brian feels good on day one.

  
  
  


 

Day two is not so kind.

 

Mainly do to the fact that Pat stops by his desk in the morning, and that he looks  _ really _ fucking good. He’s wearing that red flannel that Brian decided was his favorite, and his hair looks shiny and soft and Brian's wants to touch it so badly.

 

“Morning Bri,” Pat leans against Brian's desk and runs a hand through his hair. “Missed you yesterday, been busy?”

 

Alarms go off in Brian's head, accompanied by his own inner monologue screaming  _ ‘Dont fucking say that!’  _

 

But he takes a deep breath, avoids eye contact, and shrugs. “Yeah. Busy.”

 

Pat seems to pick up on the tension. He stands, no longer leaning so closely into Brian's space. “Oh, gotcha. Well uh, don't work too hard, okay?”

 

And then Pat leaves, and Brian wants to cry. It stings because it's such a lovely thing to say, and Pat is  _ always _ making sure that Brian's not overworking himself. Such a thoughtful gesture, painfully discarded because Brian doesn't know how to be a normal goddamned person (yet). Brian lets his head fall onto his desk, letting out a low groan as crashes. Jenna jumps in her seat next to him, and mutters a quiet  _ ‘me too’ _ under her breath. It's a sweet sentiment, but he knows she doesn't actually understand.

  
  
  


 

Day three and four are just as bad as day two, but for the exact opposite reason.

 

Brian doesn't see Pat hardly at all, and when he does, its quick and in passing. He tells himself that it's just because they are both busy, which is true, but it feels almost like Pat is avoiding Brian too.

 

This is a good thing though, right? This will make it easier? Wasn't this the whole point? Then why does it hurt so bad?

 

It’s like Brian is riding a roller coaster of withdrawal.

 

On day four (a Friday) he seeks out Simone during their lunch break because she is blunt and  _ sometimes _ good at giving advice and, worse case scenario, a good distraction. He finds her eating a bagel and he joins her but eats  _ nothing _ because his stomach has been in knots for a week.

 

“I think im dying?” Is what he opens with as he collapses into his chair.

 

“That's not good.” She replied flatly with her mouth still mostly full. “Are you sick? Or just like... angsty?”

 

“Both.”

 

She nods. “I feel that. Its the weekend though, we could go get drinks and shitty bar food.”

 

Brian perks up at this offer, because that sounds  _ exactly _ like the sort of distraction he needs. Besides, Simone is definitely the best person to go scouting for dudes with. It never  _ goes _ anywhere, but it's always a fun time.

 

“That sounds really good actually,” He sighs in relief, feeling some of the weight leave his chest.

 

“Cool, i'll see what else I have to do today and text you. We might even be able to step out early.”

 

Brian leaves lunch feeling better than he had all week. Sometimes it's just easier when you have a goal, even if that goal is simply  _ ‘Make it to the end of the work day’ _ .

 

Simone and Brian meet up in the lobby and brace themselves against the gusty early spring weather outside. They walk to a bar that is frequented by the Polygon office because its only two blocks away, and surprisingly lowkey on the weekends. The atmosphere inside is dim and dingy but the prices are fair and the booths give enough room to stretch out. Plus Simone really like their nachos.

 

It feels like the first real breath of fresh air Brian has had in a while. Laughing with Simone and feeling his face heat up as he polishes off his first beer, and then feeling just elevated enough to relax once he finished the second. It’s good. It's what he needs.

 

“I'm gonna go to the restroom,” Simone lazily slides out of her side of the booth, “If I don't make it back then tell my wife I love her.” She teases.

 

“Sure, i'll let Jenna know.” Brian smirks, and Simone throws her head back and cackles before turning and disappearing down a hallway.

 

Brian is alone for only a few minutes, just scrolling through his phone and making quick work of a third drink when a figure appears at the end of the table. Brian expects a waiter, but his hopes are quickly dashes when he makes eye contact with none other than Patrick fucking Gill.

 

“Fancy meeting you here.” Pat smiles wide and genuine, and Brian can see Jeff and Clayton behind him ordering from the bar.

 

“Did Simone invite you guys?” Brian asks, nerves on high alert.

 

“Yeah, it's been a long week for everyone I think. Sounded fun.” He shrugs, “Move over, we’ll make everyone else squeeze together on the other side.”

 

For a moment, Brian contemplates relenting. He almost just makes room for Pat, because it's the habit they've formed. Coming here on Fridays after work, sitting next to each other and having fun with whoever else is on the other side of the table. Close, but not too close (Pat has a  _ thing _ about personal space) but when they've both had a few he doesn't mind if Brian invades it.

 

Then he remembers, and he thinks better of it.

 

“I was actually just leaving, my uh, my ride is here so tell Simone I said bye and that i'm sorry. Ill uh, I'll see you guys next week.” Brian speaks quickly and quietly and his chest heaves as he slides out of the booth and bolts for the door. He is faintly aware of Pat calling after him, but he doesn't turn around. Not until he is six blocks away and standing in a train tunnel. Not even then.

 

He gets home to an empty apartment, a few half-drunk texts from Simone, and a tightness in his chest that he usually only associated with anxiety. Maybe it  _ is _ anxiety, just a cruel form that's slow and burns under the skin. But breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth doesn't help, and neither does watching TV or playing Celeste or complaining to his cat .He goes to bed early but he falls asleep very very late.

  
  


 

Day five, he spends alone.

  
  


 

Day six, he has errands to run, and he’s thankful for the distraction. Laura wants his help making dinner, and it actually ends up being pretty fun, but the weekend still slips through his fingers without much reprieve.

 

He knows that tomorrow presents another challenge, one he isn't sure he’s ready to face, and he feels like such a  _ coward _ . He considers calling in, he’s done it before. Usually always with the honest excuse of being so anxiety ridden that he can't get out of bed, and honestly this doesn't feel so different.

 

But the morning of day seven comes, and Brian sucks it up enough to get out of bed. It's a whole two hours late, but it's something.

 

He’s grateful that his work load is mostly just research. Just data collecting, really. Something he can do without thinking too hard about it. The day goes by fast, which is a god send, and before he is even aware, the last group of people leave the office. Brian was last in, so he’ll be the last to leave, and the quiet makes it easier to focus. He takes off his headphones and lets the subtle whirring from the air vents above him calm his ever-agitated nerves.

 

He’s skimming through his list of possible Unraveled topics, looking for something to get a jump start on, when that placid aura is brought to an abrupt halt. All with the sound of jingling keys, and a door opening.

 

Patrick. Coming through the doorway, searching the room and lighting up the space with a grin that just decimates Brian's heart when they lock eyes. And he’s carrying... takeout bags?

 

“Hey!” Pat beams, moving across the office and dropping into the seat right next to Brian. It feels like everything is happening at double speed.

 

“W-what are you doing here?”

 

Pat shrugs, “I uh... I knew you would be staying late so I thought i’d bring you some dinner.”

 

It's so  _ sweet _ and  _ thoughtful _ and it  _ hurts _ . Brian cant get his body and mind and heart all on the same page, not enough to form any sort of coherent thought or action.

 

“Why?” Is all he manages.

 

At this, Pat looks sheepish, which is (a good fucking look on him) rare. “Look Bri, I can tell that  _ something _ is going on, and I know you can get really in your own head and I-” He pauses, “I don't want you to feel alone. Because you can talk to me. About anything.”

 

Brian wants to  _ scream _ . It's all so fucking unfair, and at this rate, it's going to kill him. Like actually drive him crazy and kill him. His nerves are fried and he’s low on sleep and patience. And as if it all weren't bad enough all ready, Pat concludes by reaching out a hand and resting it on Brian’s knee. Gingerly. For a moment, Brian is lost. Totally enraptured by the thumb that’s rubbing his thigh slowly and affectionately, and how  _ big _ the hang attached to that thumb is.

 

It takes his brain all of ten seconds to catch up with reality, and then he’s jumping away from Pat’s touch like he’s been burned. He cant take it!  _ He cant take it! _

 

“You need to leave!” Brian yells, louder than he has in a long time in earnest, rising to his feet so fast that the chair falls over behind him. He’s not even looking at Pat, he can't.

 

“What?” Pat sounds both offended and confused. He sounds hurt, “Brian I- What the hell? What did I do?”

 

And that’s when Brian  _ really _ loses it. Because Pat didn't do  _ anything.  _ All of this was Brian’s fault from day one. He had been so convinced that Pat wouldn't even notice once he changed the dynamic of their relationship. So sure that he wouldn't care. But  _ of course _ he noticed, because Pat is a good friend who  _ cares _ , even when he doesn't show it, and Brian is such a terrible fucking person that wrote all of it off to his own self pity.

 

He runs a trembling hand through his hair, still standing, and turns to meet the other man’s eyes. Pat looks like someone pulled the rug out from underneath him, but not angry, and that's almost worse.

 

“I just- I don't want to-” He pauses, taking a slow steady breath, “I don't want to  _ ruin _ this?” He gestures vaguely at the space between them without meaning too. It's the only thing that feels right to say.

 

“I don’t think i'm following you.” Patrick’s eyebrows furrow together behind his glasses and Brian wants to launch himself into the sun because  _ of course _ Pat doesn't know what he means.

 

He can either deflect, and avoid and ruin whatever semblance of friendship they still have, or he can fess up and ruin it faster. Whatever part of his brain that’s responsible for making stupid decisions finally steps in, because he goes with the band-aid approach before he even knows what's happening.

 

“Pat I like you.  _ A lot _ . Like too much,” He hiccups a breath, “And I just want to get over it. I cant keep... doing this? But you mean a lot to me, and being your friend is important and-” This time he gasped before continuing, “And- and, I don't know what else to do than just...”

 

His voice cuts off as he locks eyes with Pat, whose face is a perfect mask of unaffected calm. Brian is internally  _ screaming _ because Patrick is always so fucking composed and it would be so much easier is he were to just storm out of the room. At least that would have been  _ something _ .

 

Patrick holds their stare for a moment longer before his eyes fall to his own hands. Brian see’s him searching his mind for something to say or how to feel, but Brian doesn't give him the chance. Whatever words he’s about to say are going to bite, and Brian doesn't think he can take it. Not now.

 

So, feeling weak and utterly terrified, Brian starts to cry. The hot stingy frustrated tears that come with panic. And this may as well  _ be _ a panic attack because the entire world feels too far away and too sharp and Brian is a mess of bubbling liquid anxiety to do anything productive.

 

“Im so fucking stupid,” He chokes out, reaching for his things and shoving them haphazardly into his bag. “I'm so sorry I- Just. Don't  _ Fuck! _ I'm so so sorry.” Brian isn't even sure if the words come out clearly or not, and he doesn't really have the time to care. He’s just babbling, trying to log out of the computer with one hand and trying to remain standing long enough to leave.

 

“Just forget it, okay? Please I-” Brian continues, reaching for his phone when all too suddenly a hand wraps tightly around his wrist. Pat’s hand, keeping him from pulling away and constricting.

 

Brian barely has enough time to react before Pat rises to his feet, so close that Brian has to look up the distance between them. His panic is momentarily put on pause, and confusion replaces it. His breath catches in his throat and far away he can hear the faint sounds of his own sniffling.

 

A warm hand reaches up and cradles Brian’s face, and he realizes that's Pat’s hand too. Pat carefully wipes at the tears from Brian's cheek, just looking down at him with that same calm mask. Brian wants to speak, to say anything, look for clarity, but he can't.

 

And then Pat closes the distance between them, still holding Brian's face and wrist, and somewhere in the middle their lips meet and Brian feels his soul leave his body.

 

The kiss is  _ deep _ and forceful, and the way he’s being held, Brian doesn't think he could move out of it even if he wanted too. Patrick’s lips are softer than he’d thought, and his stubble tickles and tugs and it's so  _ good _ . Better than it's ever been in his head.

 

Pat pulls away, just far enough to be able to speak, “Take a deep breath,” He says, voice a low harsh whisper. Commanding. Brian realizes he  _ hasn't _ been breathing much at all.

 

He obliges. Lunges struggling against his rib cage but it's enough. Pat moves back in.

 

Pat tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and something in Brian's brain finally kicks in and he opens his mouth to grant further access. Pat replies with a deep hum that reverberates down Brian's spine, and suddenly there's a tongue in his mouth that isn't his and he never wants it to go away. He reaches one shaky hand up to grab at Pat’s shirt, clinging to him like his life depends on it. Pat turns them, pushing Brian back against the desk and Brian takes the hint, letting himself be lifted just slightly. Pat finally lets go of Brian's wrist in favor of his hip, long warm fingers digging in with just enough force to make Brian yelp into the other man's mouth.

 

The hand that was cupping his face moves slowly to tangle in his hair, and then Pat is pulling, making Brian’s head tilt backward and exposing his neck. Pat nearly  _ growls _ as he attacks the tender skin. Soft kisses peppered in between the sharp grazing of teeth, and finally, a bite. Deliciously painful and electric. Brian lets out a high pitched whine from somewhere deep within his throat and he feels Pat smile against his jaw.

 

The bite was enough to bring him back to earth. He is  _ here _ , this is  _ happening,  _ this is  _ real;  _ and regardless of what happens next, he wants to make the most of it. So he squirms under pat’s grip, wrapping his ankles around the back of Pat’s legs, forcing them closer together. The hands, still balled into fists in the other man’s shirt, release their grip and trail down slowly, wrapping around Pat’s waist and pulling them flush with one another. It all feels so  _ good _ and so  _ heavy _ .

 

As if provoked, Pat grabs at Brian's hips and  _ grinds _ into him. The feeling, while admittedly not a lot through the layers separating them from each other, is enough to make both men groan. So he does it again. And again and this time he pulls at Brian’s lip between his teeth and Brian is practically  _ whimpering _ .

 

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Pat breathes in between sloppy kisses, “You sound so hot.” Brian feels like putty in the other man's hands, melting onto the desk.

 

Somewhere amidst the heavenly chaos, Brian feels himself start to think somewhat rationally again. Rationally enough to realize they either need to go somewhere else  _ now  _ to finish what they've started, or stop it all together. They should talk about it right? They should-  _ fuck that feels good _ \- no no they should stop before it too late. But  _ God _ that's the last thing he wants.

 

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the decision is made for him. Brian is mid-moan, head thrown back when Pat cups a hand over Brian's mouth.

 

“Do you hear that?” Pat asks, laborious breath blowing fallen strands of hair as he speaks. “What time is it?”

 

Brian raises a wrist weakly to check his watch and, sure enough, it's close to 9pm, and there is an unmistakable jingling of keys just outside the offices main doors. It's the cleaning crew. 

 

“We have to go.” Pat sighs, and lets his hand fall from Brian's mouth.

 

Brian sits frozen in place. The whiplash of something so intensely good to the harsh sobering slap of reality is jarring. He whines as he slips off of the desk, muscles tense, and the friction his jeans are causing is... it's a lot.

 

The two dance around each other, Pat far more quickly, gathering their things and trying to put the desks back in order. Brian feels like he’s moving through quicksand. They have their things situated in a matter of seconds, and Pat pulls Brian by the hand towards the door just in time for it to swing open. The Janitor jumps back, and Pat rips his fingers from Brian's grasp. It's a harsh feeling.

 

“Sorry, we lost track of time,” Pat speaks calmly and smoothly, unphased, “It's all yours.”

 

As soon as the doors closes behind them, Pat laces his fingers back into Brian's. They step in the elevator and the silence is welcomed because Brian is a fucking  _ mess. _ The mirrored walls give him a look at himself he hadn't seen before. Pupils dilated, lips swollen, face flushed and pink, hair a mess, shirt half untucked. And he  _ feels _ like a mess too. All jitters and waves of vertigo as his Adrenalin leaves his system. He can feel himself literally shaking, so he leans against Pat for support.

 

It was almost shameful, how messed he was compared to the other man. He had absolutely fallen apart where Pat still stood sturdy.

 

The elevator doors open and Pat gently kisses the top of Brian's head before ushering him through the lobby and out the door. It's frigid outside, and gusty; it's like stepping under a cold shower. Brian feels himself both physically and emotionally coming down from his lustful high. He breathes slowly to extinguish the fire raging in his chest.

 

“This way.” Pat’s voice is quiet in Brian’s ear. A hand on his arm guides him around the side of the building, just off of the busy street.

 

It's quiet here, and the streetlamps don't quite illuminate the alley. Something about it makes Brian feel bold. After all,  _ something _ had just happened between them and Brian's feelings no longer seem so one sided. Brian turns to him, locking eyes and not pulling away, grabbing at his coat. Patrick is warm, radiating heat against the cold air and Brian wants so badly to be near him.

 

“So what happens now?” He asks, voice airier than he’d wanted.

 

Pat slides a hand over Brian’s cheek and into his hair, holding him steady and tilting him up. His thumb brushes against bottom lip, pulling at it gently, before capturing his lips again. Less assertive this time, more needy, mouth moving desperate and trapping Brian’s lip between his own.

 

Pat walks them backwards just a few steps until Brian collides with the wall of the building and gasps at the impact. Brian’s hands snake up and wrap around Pat’s neck. He feels the hand on his hip slide up, catching at his disheveled shirt and then it's cold fingers on warm skin and Brian shudders.

 

The hand holding his head grabs just a bit tighter, and Pat trails kisses across Brian’s face and onto his jaw. “Invite me home.” Pat whispers, voice deeper than normal.

 

And  _ God _ does Brian want too. There is literally nothing on earth that he wants more than to do just that. But as soon as he wants to say yes, a million reason why he  _ can't _ suddenly flash through his mind. He has roommates, his  _ sister _ , and their apartment is so small. Brian hasn't had anyone over to spend the night (like this) in.... Ever?. Never. He never has, and doesn't very well think he can now, and certainly not someone Jonah and Laura wound  _ know _ . Plus its late, and they both have to be in for work early tomorrow. And he’s not even  _ ready _ for that sort of thing right now and what if-

 

“Brian,  _ invite me home _ .” Pat repeats, this time both more aggressive and desperate.

 

“I- I can't,” Brian knows he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears (again) but he can't help it, “We shouldn't. My roommates and- and work tomorrow?”

 

Pat looks between Brian’s eyes before hissing a quiet  _ ‘Fuck’ _ , under his breath. He leans his forehead against Brian’s, panting just slightly and finally releasing he grip on the younger man’s face. “You're right. I wish you weren't but-  _ Damn _ Bri.”

 

Pat takes a half step back, their hands fall away from each other. Even the slight distance feels too far.

 

“I hate being right.” Brian mutters, and Pat chuckles dryly,  _ raggedly _ .

 

“I should- We should go. It's late.” Pat states, but it's almost more like he’s just double checking.

 

“Yeah. Late.” Brian chews his lip.

 

“Brian I-” Pat reaches for Brian’s hand, holding it gently in his own. He looks lost in thought, mouth open, like he’s waiting for the right words to fall out, “I think we both probably have a lot to think about. I have a lot I need to... Process.” Brian’s heart is beating painfully hard in his chest because it almost sounds like regret, “But you should have told me sooner. The feeling is... mutual.”

 

“Oh?”  _ Oh. _

 

“ _ Very _ mutual.” Pat squeezes Brian's hand tighter, “Um, text me? When you get home?”

 

“Y-yeah, sure.” Brian nods, probably too urgently.

 

And with one more small and painfully chaste kiss, Patrick Gill just turns and walks away. Maybe it's better for both of their sake not to wait around in the subway together. In a flash Pat is gone, and it feels as though time has been paused. Brian  _ reels _ , limbs tingling and face flush, like he will never be able to get enough oxygen ever again.

 

Everything feels so  _ good _ , likes he’s on drugs or has really just totally lost it and at this point it really could be the latter. The time will come where he starts to pick apart everything that happened (on the ride home) and questions all of it. What it all meant, all of the things that had gone wrong and all of the things that  _ could _ go wrong. He will panic over whether or not he actually  _ should _ text Pat when he gets home, but he’ll do it anyway because Pat asked him too and he likes doing what he’s told. And Pat’s reply will light his skin on fire for reason Brian still isn't sure he fully understands.

 

Pat will apologize for  _ ‘mauling’ _ him, and Brian will debates about whether or not he should be flirty in his reply. Eventually he will just says it's  _ ‘okay’ _ and that he  _ ‘wouldn't be mad if it happens again’ _ and even that will have him over thinking. It's all brand fucking new, and Brian still feels like he’s living in a (really really amazing) dream.

 

Then he’ll lose another nights sleep just lost in the memory of it. Replaying it again and again, burning it onto the back of his eyelids.

  
But for now, Brian is over the fucking moon. Patrick Gill  _ kissed _ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope yall got my dumb reference)  
> -M


	3. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brians a nervous wreck but hey, what else is new? At least this time he has something to be nervous about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a lil spicy fellas. Please forgive grammar mistakes/spelling errors this is terribly unedited!

Brian has never been the type to half-ass anything. He’s not even sure if he’s capable of it. Why do something if you aren't willing to see it through, make it perfect? And sure, its given him a lot of stress induced panic whenever deadlines get a little too close, but it’s made him someone people know they can  _ trust _ with getting things done, and getting them done well.

 

It's not just work either.

 

His school years, his home life, every time he decides to make something a little challenging for dinner, every board game he plays, every silly video. And, obviously, his relationships. He dives in head first with people, because he wants so badly to be wanted, and he wants the people he cares about to have everything they could ever need. It gets tiring, yes, and in the past it's gotten him really  _ really _ hurt.

 

So it's scary, feeling the way he does for Patrick. At first it was just his own neurocy and total infatuation, but now its  _ more _ . Now its  _ bad. _ Because there is a chance (a pretty good chance) that those feelings are reciprocated.

 

Okay, well, it's  _ obvious _ those feelings are reciprocated. The man said it himself, in front of god and everyone. But all of that could very easily just be the physical, and while that's  _ great _ (and it so so is) Brian isn't sure if its safe.

 

His body (dick) says it's okay. If Pat just wants to shove him up against a building in some dark alleyway and do  _ whatever-the-fuck _ he pleases, then fantastic. He kind of revels in the thought, actually, of being something disposable in that way.

 

But it heart (brain?) says its a bad fucking idea, because that will actually, no fooling, kill him for real. He likes Pat for so many reasons that aren't physical, and if  _ that _ part of the feeling  _ isn't _ mutual, then all Brian is is a good fuck. And thats.... It's tricky. To put it mildly. He feels like he’s playing tug-o-war with his own emotions.

 

So he’s a little... lost as far as what his next move is gonna be. He spent a fucking week avoiding the man and then he got a second tongue shoved down his throat. So should he keep avoiding? Should he play aloof and cool? Should he check in? Make a mention of what happened? All options seem pretty equally terrible at this point.

 

His alarm goes off, but he’s been awake for the better part of an hour already. He’s an anxious mess, but when  _ isn't _ that the case. He cant make up his mind about anything and if he’s not careful things will start moving too fast again and  _ god _ he wishes it were socially acceptable to be able to just like, text the person you like and have them hand over a 2000 word essay about their intentions and thoughts on the matter. But its not, so Brian is just kind of screwed.

 

If nothing else, he can control how he  _ looks _ . He can make himself into a presentable package of charisma and charm, get himself feeling better on the outside in hopes that a little bit of it will seep through his skin. It's simple; Jeans that are a little too tight but only in the right places because he  _ knows _ he has a nice ass, a green and black striped sweater that makes him look  _ soft _ and  _ small _ , and he’s up early enough that he can repaint his nails because he knows it's good to draw attention to his hands. It's easier, when he breaks things down for what they are instead of what they could be. He knows he looks good when he leaves, good for him anyway, and that's the best he can really hope for.

 

It's not until he  _ sees _ the building that the nerves really set in. He eyes the alleyway he was shoved into the night before with caution, like it might flick out a tongue and swallow him whole. The elevator ride takes forever, and it's too hot and too stuffy and he can't look his own reflection in the eye, because he’s afraid he’ll look like he did last night.

 

He pauses before he opens the door to the office, like he’s afraid of walking in on something he shouldn't.

 

But it's just the office. The normal cast of faces staring at screens and the normal idle morning chatter. It's all so standard that he is instantly  _ certain _ his face is giving away each and every illicit detail of what happened in this very same space. And  _ of course _ he’s making too big a deal out of it (that's kind of his thing) but he can't fucking  _ help _ it.

 

Every step he takes, bringing him closer and closer to the scene of the crime, the burning in his gut intensifies. It was just a  _ kiss. _ Well a few kisses. Okay a lot actually it was a full on makeout in his  _ workplace _ , that would have very easily lead to more. But it didn't, he reminds himself, nothing  _ else _ happened. Its okay. He’s cool. It's totally fine.

 

“Brian!”

 

He jumps around at the voice, yelping in surprise and clutching a hand over his chest. He’s not cool! He’s not cool at all!

 

“Woah Jesus I didn't mean to scare you,” It's just Jenna, and Brian practically gasps in relief, “I was going to make fun of you for being early but you're like, way keyed up. You good?”

 

Brian blanks, wires short-circuiting for just a moment before; “Oh, yeah yeah no uh- I'm fine I mean. Too much coffee, not enough sleep.” He shrugs because it's not a lie.

 

“Gotcha,” She eyes him like she’s suspicious, but she doesn't press further, “Well take a breath, yeah?”

 

“Yeah yeah, no problem. Totally.” Swing and a miss. At least she turns and leaves.

 

Brian finally ( _ finally) _ makes it to his desk, and he pulls out his chair to collapse into it, but then he remembers. His blood feels hot and his skin feels tight and why the  _ fuck _ did he wear these pants. But it's cool. He’s cool (he’s not). He can  _ play _ it cool.

 

So he sits, and he waits. For what? He’s not sure. Maybe for the entire office to stand and point and laugh at him because they  _ know _ (even though it's not possible for anyone to know anything). Maybe just for death, honestly.

 

Maybe he’s just waiting for Patrick.

 

Well either way, he’s going to have to wait for a while because no god would be fair enough to take away his suffering, and Pat doesn't usually get in until about 10:30, and it's currently only-  _ fuck only 9:15? _

 

Cool cool cool. Great. Fantastic.

 

It takes him three tries to log into his computer because his hands just aren't working properly, and once he’s finally in and has pulled up all of the necessary files and documents and tabs for his work for the day, he realizes there is no point because it's not like he’s actually going to be able to get  _ anything _ done. Not when he’s like this. And that’s when it really kicks in just how  _ bad _ all of this is had gotten. Dangerous, even.

 

Because liking Pat was bad enough, right? His weird little fixation wasn't  _ good _ or doing him any favors, that's what started this whole thing in the first place. And then the rug got pulled out from under him and sent him on a free fall into Pat’s waiting arms and now its so much  _ worse. _ Because he’s had a taste.

 

He’s a smart kid, he’d like to think. He’s aware of negativity bias and how easy it is to form bad habits and how you can get addicted to pretty much anything if you set your mind to it. Its troubling because he had wanted to stop. He had wanted, so badly, to derail this train before it sent him careening off the edge, and all it got him was the opposite response. Because God is cruel and the universe seems to be really fond of watching him run at full speed into (and sometimes through) whatever blockades stand before him.

 

All of this to say, he’s a fucking wreck, and he feels guilty for being a fucking wreck, because the whole goal of this week had been to stop him from becoming a fucking wreck.

 

And there's something else too, deep deep down, dulled by the anxiety and the labored breath and the-  _ in through the nose out through the mouth _ \- shame. It's hard for him to find, until he really lets himself stew on it.

 

Excitement.

 

The tantalizing thrill of getting  _ exactly _ what he wanted. The rain cloud crept in pretty much as soon as Brian was alone, but that never stopped him from counting his blessings. How it all felt so  _ good. _ How easily swayed into false security he had been. How hot and heavy and (brief) passionate the whole thing was. He felt like a 14 year old again, kissing boys in the dressing room while they waited for their cue. All bad and good and secret and intense.

 

Once he gets this new chain of thoughts going, the anxiety boils away into something different, but no less consuming. And it really must have overtaken him because he doesn't even realize Jenna has come back to her desk and gotten to work for the day. He has lost an hour to thinking, maybe more, and he didn't even feel it. Not until he hears someone say;

 

“Mornin, Patrick!”

 

And Brian's blood fucking freezes over.

 

He dares himself (like a 14 year old) to take a look, and when he does, a dark set of eyes are already looking right at him. Only for a second, they flicker away as soon as they are caught, but it's enough. Those eyes told him most of what he needed to know. An unspoken acknowledgement that  _ ‘Yes, this does feel strange’  _ and  _ ‘No, you aren't crazy for being so high strung’ _ and  _ ‘Yes, im feeling pretty uneasy too.’ _

 

Pat walks out of sight.

 

Oddly, this brief interaction fuels Brian. It settles his nerves just enough that he is able to work, forcing the day to pass even if its vain. It's not going to be his most productive day my any means, but he can busy himself with fact finding and cataloging and other tedious bullshit so that his hands and his mind are kept focused on something,  _ anything _ , other than what they want to be busy with.

 

It works, the distracting, so well in fact that he is again startled by the passing of time. When Jenna nudges him that it's lunch time he is four pages deep on a spreadsheet for a potential Unraveled that probably won't really go anywhere but its such a  _ relief _ that time actually moved that he feels like maybe he’s accomplished something worthwhile anyway.

 

“Wanna go on a little walk with me?” Jenna asks, wrapping her jacket around herself, “I'm thinking sandwiches?”

 

“I uh, im not-” Brian’s eyes flicker around the room, pointedly looking in the general direction of where he knows a certain someone is even if he cant see him.

 

“Yeah im not gonna take no for an answer,” Jenna rolls her eyes and crosses her arms but she’s smiling, “You look like your crawling out of your skin. Come on, it’ll be fun, and you can either talk about what's bothering you or we can just get yummy food and talk about nothing.”

 

Brian lets out a shaky breath and nods, hands having a hard time at putting on his own jacket because he had only  _ just _ gotten them to work at typing. “Okay.”

 

 

 

The walk to the sandwich shop Jenna likes is mostly silent, and for that, Brian is grateful. If it were Simone he knows he wouldn't be so lucky. The shop is small, like everything in this city, tucked between a liquor store and a walkup and it smells like warm bread. They order together and pay separate and claim a table that's sort of next to the kitchen because it really does smell heavenly. 

 

Brian's luck, eventually, runs out.

 

Jenna likes analyzing people, and now she's waiting for her food, so she asks; “What's going on with you today?”

 

“Nothing.” He answers too fast, and when Jenna raises an eyebrow at him he knows he has to continue, “Just anxious, I guess.”

 

She nods, taking a moment to either decide if he’s lying or decide how she wants to phrase whatever it is she’s going to say. “You know, Bri, i've seen you anxious enough times before to know that whatever this is is different. You seem like you're... I don't know, waiting for something?”

 

Brian swallows hard and looks down at his hands. He’s tearing at his napkin. Not tearing pieces off, no, he doesn't want to make a mess, just tearing at it. Like if he unfurls it it will be one of those really intricate paper snowflakes. It feels like Jenna is giving him an out, and if it were any other  _ thing _ he might actually tell her.

 

Maybe he can just talk around the issue. Besides, a metaphor never hurt anyone.

 

“I uh, I got some... News. And i'm not sure if the news is good or bad yet. I guess i'm just waiting around to see.”

 

“Ahh okay,” She smirks, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, more interested, “Do I get a hint at what the news is?”

 

Brian smiles, because Jenna is maybe the most polite nosy person he’s ever met. “No hints.”

 

“Fine, don't be fun,” She leans back, still smirking, “Do you find out today?”

 

“That's the problem, I don't know when I’ll find out. I don't knows if i’ll ever find out.”

 

Jenna hums in affirmation, and Brian is relieved that in that moment the food arrives. They eat, mostly in silence again, and Jenna was totally right because this really hits the spot. Brian is calm, satiated by good food and being away from the object of his fixation. Just him and a friend and no immediate pressures. Just the smell of bread and the chime of the bell over the door and two cooks shouting back and forth to each other in what he’s pretty sure is Armenian.

 

“Could you ask?” Jenna finally speaks up, wiping at her mouth with a napkin.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“About your news, I mean. Could you just ask who or whatever it is? Like just for a timeline or something?”

 

Could he? Could it be that simple? Like, obviously he  _ could _ ask. Walk up to Pat after work and say  _ ‘Hey so what the fuck did that mean? Are we cool or should I never talk to you again?’  _ but the ramifications of that are.... Immeasurable at best. And in Brian's humble opinion, the simple solution is never the best solution. But, then again, what does he really have to lose. It's either going to go poorly, or it's going to go well, and he’s not sure how much agency he has in making it sway one way or the other.

 

“I guess it wouldn't hurt.” He relents, if for no other reason than to see Jenna make that face that means she’s satisfied with herself. She really is a good friend, even if she’s a nosy one.

  
  
  


 

After lunch, Brian is somewhat soothed into a more productive afternoon. Being in the office isn't great on his psyche but it's certainly better than it was before, because at least now he has a game plan. Or like, half of one. Well really he just as a question he wants to ask and he’s still not really sure what to ask or how to ask it but it's more than he had earlier and that's a victory if you ask him, thank you very much. 

 

Thankfully (and good  _ God _ is he thankful) someone else makes the first move.

 

A warm hand on his shoulder makes him stop typing mid sentence. And then there's that hushed, husky, voice in his ear trying so so hard to be quiet.

 

“Do you have a sec?”

 

Brian doesn't look away from his screen, “Y-yeah.”

 

“Meet me on 3rd.”

 

And then that warm hand is gone, and Brian's body reignites with the fire he had tried so hard to stomp out. But he listens, and he obeys.

 

Waiting the proper amount of time, he thinks, before casually standing up and stretching just like he would any other time, and heading towards the back of the office as if he were using the restroom. Only instead of walking  _ through _ the break room he turns left, goes through an exterior door, and pops out into the lobby. He’s almost impressed with himself as he steps inside the elevator, at just how natural it had all been, he didn't misstep even once.

 

The thing is, the elevator doesn't actually stop at three. The 3rd floor is currently empty and in process of being renovated, but its been ‘in process’ since Brian started. For a while it was a joke that kind of spread around the office, that if you really wanted to kill some time you could go down to 3rd, and take a long bathroom break, or a nap, and no one would know.

 

And Brian, just like pretty much everyone else, has been to 3rd enough times to know that you take the elevator to 4th (not 2nd because the security desk clerk is a real nark) and then take the stairs down to 3rd. And you have to be really careful to put something in the door to keep it open otherwise you’ll be locked in, which is something Brian and Simone learned the hard way back when he first started. It was funny back then, but he’s sure it would be needlessly incriminating now.

 

When he gets to the door, he finds it propped open already with a paint can. One so old and crusted that the brush is fused in place. He steps around it carefully, making sure the door closes against it the right way. 3rd is kind of an unsettling place to be, if for no other reason than how quiet it is. Most of the doors are open, but most of the rooms don't have working lights. It smells horribly of paint and there are still drop cloths covering most of the main hallways floor. Brian focuses on the sounds of his shoes making sharp tapping noises against tile, and then soft dull thuds against canvas, and then back again.

 

He’s not sure of where to go, and he feels a bit like he’s walking into a trap. Are there traps that you can  _ want _ to be caught in? He looks in every darkened room that he passes as he makes his way towards the only real thing of note on 3rd, the bathrooms. He’s sure that's where he’ll find Pat, it's kind of the only reasonable assumption to make, but he’s  _ scared _ . Brian is almost positive that this is the setup of some horrible prank or something, and he’s going to end up covered in pigs blood or tar and feathers or any other awful number of things.

 

Still, he opens the door.

 

“Pat?” He hates how small his voice sounds, but he doesn't get much time to dwell on it.

 

Not when a hand wraps around his wrist, and pulls. Not when he’s being pushed back against the door he just came through. Not when hands grip at his waist. Not when Pat’s beautiful fucking face floats just above his own before coming down  _ hard _ and crashing kisses against his skin.

 

It's a hard feeling to explain, the way Brian's nervousness shifts, fast and intense, into excitement. It's not a break from the stress on his body, but his heart racing and his palms sweating in this way is so much more palatable. It takes him all of two seconds before he’s kissing back. Wrapping hands up and around Pat’s neck, letting his back arch up and pressing their bodies together.

 

Pat is direct in his movements. Less passionate than before, its calculated, like he’s been planning his assault on Brian's body, and the thought alone makes Brians knees weak.

 

“I've been thinking about this all day.” Pat’s voice is low in Brian’s ear, his fingers dig in just a bit more at Brian's waist.

 

“I've been thinking about you too.” Brian's voice is airy and high, and he feels a bit like he’s admitting something he shouldn't. Like it's a secret.

 

“Hmm,” Pat hums, pulling back just enough to look down at him, bringing a hand up and holding his chin like you would a squirming child. His thumb traces soft circles before tugging at Brian's lower lip. “What  _ exactly _ have you been thinking about?” He challenges, a subtle smirk stretching across his features.

 

The way he’s being held, Brian knows lying wouldn't do him any good, he’s not sure if he  _ could _ lie to Pat right now even if he wanted too. “About y-you. About last night and- and how you touched me. I thought a lot about what you might be thinking.”

 

Pat chuckles, his thumb still holding Brian’s lip, “You've made it very difficult for me to get anything done today, Bri. I've been having a real hard time.”

 

“How can I help?” Brian might be an anxious mess, but he knows how to fucking flirt.

 

Patrick's eyes tinge a shade darker, he glances back and forth like he’s deciding to take the bait or not. “Oh I think you know.”

 

And take the bait he does.

 

Brian is pulled, quickly, from the door and then pushed, hard, against the counter. It feels familiar, the way he lets himself be lifted up just enough, the way Pat pushes in between his thighs. He figures it probably gets annoying, kissing someone shorter than you, and he sure as hell doesn't mind being manhandled.

 

_ God _ he kisses like a fucking dream. Soft and warm and all encompassing. Brian's never really been one for the prolonged makeout sesh but Pat is definitely the exception. Spurred on, he reaches up and laces his fingers through Pat’s dark silky hair, and when Pat’s lips find the tender skin of Brian's throat he  _ pulls _ .

 

Pat inhales sharply, “Is that how you want to play?”

 

Brian keens, letting out a moan that is both horribly desperate and completely out of his control because,  _ Jesus Christ, _ Pat cant keep talking to him like that. Like he stepped out of one of Brian's fucking wet dreams that, yeah, might have involved the man himself.

 

“You're so fucking hot.” Is the brilliant thing Brian decides to say because, well, its true. And because he likes to push buttons, he pulls again. If Pat really wanted him to stop then he’s going to have to stop making those sounds.

 

_ “Fuck,”  _ Pat breathes, moving to hold the sides of Brian's face which, at this point, is also becoming quite familiar, “You know exactly what you're doing don't you? You look so  _ good _ today, and you look up at me all doe eyed. It's really not fair.”

 

Brian laughs, more out of shock than anything else because  _ damn _ Pats really good at seeing through his shit. He’s not so sure about the doe eyed thing, but maybe Pat’s just has a thing for Brian when he’s a bundle of nerves. Maybe Pat’s a little into whatever vibe Brian gives off when he’s afraid.

 

And that's something Brian can get behind.

 

He doesn't really know what to say anyway, so he just looks. Letting his head stay down but looking up, letting himself  _ feel _ and  _ emote _ because he’s not sure hes capable of much else right now. It always feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

So when it does....

 

“Let me touch you, baby boy.”

 

It  _ really _ does.

 

Brian doesn't think he’s ever been so quick to say yes in his life. Even if he hates how breathy and desperate it sounds when he says it. Pat jumps immediately, lips and teeth and tongue working at his neck and jaw while his hands make quick work of untucking Brian's shirt, and his belt, and his jeans. And Brian cant look because he’s afraid that if he does then he’ll wake up from this dream, but he  _ feels _ Pat’s large warm hand springing him free, and then wrapping around him and Brian could just die right here right now and be happy about it.

 

“You drive me crazy,” Pat’s voice is deep and strained, “You drive me fucking crazy. Look at you, falling apart for me.  _ Fuck _ , Bri, its too much.”

 

Brian tries once to speak, but his voice falls out in a strangled moan when Pat pulls away to spits into his hand before getting back to work. Pat’s strong hand moving purposefully, like he’s on a fucking mission. It's hard to put the pieces together that this is  _ real _ . That  _ the _ Patrick Gill has his hand on Brian's dick in the bathroom of their place of work.

 

“Fuuck, Pat Gill I- wanted this.... For so long I-  _ Shit _ .”

 

“Do you think about me, Bri? When you touch yourself? Do you wish it was me instead?” Pat is fucking good, noted, but he speaks so clearly. Is he just never fucking phased by anything? “Because I think about you.”

 

“God, yes yes I- I think about you I-” It's getting harder and harder for him to speak, but Pat barely pays him any mind.

 

“This is all I've wanted all day,” He continues, his hand pumping more deliberately, “Just to see you like this, you're so pretty when you're worked up.”

 

Brian lets his head fall back until it hits the cool glass of the mirror. Pat moves his free hand to hold at the small of Brian's back to keep him from slipping. It's a kind thing to do, because Brian feels like he has barely any bones left at all. His pacing is  _ sublime, _ working hard and fast, and then slowing just enough to fan surprisingly nimble fingers over Brian's most sensitive places.

 

“Let me look at you.” Pat demands, and Brian doesn't get the option of opting out (not that he would ever deny a request like that). Pat slides a hand into Brian's hair, and pulls. Payback. Brian cant lean back anymore, and he doesn't dare look away, even if his gaze is weak and lidded. “There you are. You gonna come for me?”

 

“ _ Please...” _

 

Pat’s lets his controlled mask melt into something almost sinister, like he’s finally getting everything he wants even though he shouldn't want it. Maybe that's exactly how he feels.

 

“Then fucking  _ come. _ ”

 

And Brian does. It feels like an out of body experience. Hell, everything about the last day has felt just short of real. Like Brian slipped into a dimension just an inch to the left and now he never wants to leave. He knows the noise he makes is loud, but he can barely hear it. He knows his eyes are closed, but when he opens them he still can't really see. Its euphoric, and way  _ way _ fucking better than any sorry attempt he had by himself at home.

 

“Let me go, baby boy.” Pats voice is gentle and far away, and Brian realizes he's digging his heels sharply into the backs of both of Pat’s thighs. He lets his legs fall, and has to catch himself with a hand on the counter not to slip onto the floor.

 

He hears the sink turn on, and the whir of the paper towel dispenser. Hands come back, gently tucking him back into his pants, fascinating him back up but leaving the belt undone so he can tuck his shirt back in. Lips come back next, almost apologetic. Pat kisses his forehead, and his cheeks, and his lips over and over.

 

“You are so pretty,” Pat almost sounds like he’s trying not to laugh, and only then does Brian open his eyes, “Thank you.”

 

“Thank me?” Brian's eyebrow furrow together, “Pat Gill, thank  _ you. _ ”

 

Pat makes the same bashfully indigent face he makes whenever he gets praise, Brian notices, and it's somehow even cuter now. “Sorry I keep uh, jumping you. I hope I didn't make you... uncomfortable at all.”

 

“You don't have to apologize for that,” Brian shakes his head, moving to sit more upright, “It's kind of the hottest thing that's ever happened to me, so....”

 

Brian doesn't miss the way Pat blushes, and drops his gaze to the ground with a dopey grin. Brian wants to pull him back into a kiss, to tangle his fingers back into his hair, to return the favor, but Jenna’s voice comes back to him.  _ ‘Could you ask?’  _ Like it's the simplest thing in the world. Brian slides off the counter and onto the floor, the measurable distance between them  magnified by their proximity. He takes a deep breath, and pretends to be someone braver than he is.

 

“Patrick we should... Talk. About this or us or whatever. And I really don't want to be weird or heavy or forward I just... Need to know what this is.” He’d be proud of how confident his voice sounds if he weren't so fucking scared.

 

“You're right,” Pat nods, rubbing the back of his neck, “We should  _ talk _ . I uh, I have the place to myself tonight so... You should come over. I'll get dinner and we can sort some things out.”

 

Brian doesn't miss the way his voice gets low and hesitant, and he certainly doesn't miss the hidden meaning. Because he’s him, he thinks of a million reasons why maybe that's not the best plan (because how much talking are they going to achieve, really?) but Pat cuts him off before he even starts.

 

“We  _ will _ talk. We can be adults about this,” He asserts, before stepping forward just enough to be imposing and lowering his voice in Brian's ear, “But yes, I do want you. Very  _ very _ badly.”

 

Brian feels his face flush as Pat steps away, and his brain goes fuzzy for just a moment before he stills himself and nods. “Okay, it's a date then.” And, feeling a bit brave, he adds; “Um, just out of curiosity, how long do you think it will take before people realize were both gone?”

 

“I dont think its unlike either of us to run off in the middle of the day, so id say we have a little while. Why?”

 

Brian smirks, reaching his hands out to grab at Pat’s sides, “Because I want to thank you properly,” He keeps his voice even and innocent, leaning in closer, looking up at Pat through lidded eyes, “Give you something to think about for the rest of the day too.”

 

Pat gladly obliges, and Brian's not sure which one of them is more grateful. He’d be lying if he said this was the first time he dropped to his knees on public bathroom tile, and he’d be doubly lying if he said he didn't know how good he was with his mouth.

 

Part of him doubts they'll be able to talk about anything at all tonight, and part of him doesn't even care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for you comments, im glad my ramblings about creepy crushes and anxiety have been at least mildly entertaining.


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